


green apple

by malachai_hades_parker



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Adopted Sibling Incest, Angst, Animal Death, Animal Violence, Ben/Klaus - Freeform, Character Death, Comfort, Fluff, Gore, Horrance, Incest, Klaus/Ben, M/M, Multi Chapter, Pseudo Incest, real sad shit, sry fam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-28
Updated: 2019-03-07
Packaged: 2019-11-06 23:11:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17948969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/malachai_hades_parker/pseuds/malachai_hades_parker
Summary: Maybe in another life, Klaus would’ve wondered if it was wrong. But in this one, all he can imagine or feel is Ben.Ben, Ben, Ben.Ben’s smile, Ben’s laugh, Ben’s hand in his. The way he smelled of cinnamon gum and his eyes crinkled at the corners when he laughed.





	1. Chapter 1

If you asked Ben Hargreeves when it was he finally he adjusted to the pain, he couldn’t tell you. He still remembers when he was age six and the portals would erupt from under his skin at particularly inopportune times.

Sometimes it was small things, like tentacles exploding from his forearms and wrists of creatures he never fully _saw_. Once he had dropped an ice pop he was holding while he and Klaus were playing outside and one had burst from his sleeve to catch it just before it hit the ground. Grace had spent the entire afternoon sewing up the new tear in his uniform.

Other times he had less control. He could clearly remember the hot summer day Luther and Diego had thrown punches over a mission gone awry and his stomach tendrils had burst forth, interfering in a particularly violent way that left both boys in the infirmary for a few days.

While Ben’s intentions were always good, it had taken him time and training to suppress the portals lurking just beneath his skin.

And with it, the pain.

“Six, you may step into the chamber.”

Ben knows what it means. Knows what’s going to come after. His stomach does little somersaults of anxiety as he twists the rotating lever and opens the door.

It’s cold and still inside. Since it’s designed for convenient observation, the metal walls are lined with bulletproof windows and the entire cell itself is surrounded by a walkway for Reginald to traverse.

The only other fixtures inside are the vents, drains and the flat, circular platform in the center of the room. There’s a whirring sound as the doors of the platform open and Ben’s prey of the day is revealed, imprisoned behind a glass sphere.

It’s a goat. The animal’s beady eyes stare back at him and he already feels the bile rise in his throat.

At least it’s not a cat from the pound again, he realizes. Small blessings.

“Today, I want you to focus on restraint. I’ve had a bit of a hankering to compare some additional data sets from our sessions back in February. We’ve had remarkable progress with switching targets— I have a hunch that drawing further parallels between what kind of animals we’re presenting you with and the amount of time you’re able to retain control could be helpful to furthering our research.”

Reginald takes up his usual spot outside of the control panel. When he moves to hit the release on the glass, Ben’s stomach clenches again and tears sting his eyes in anticipation.

The goat is freed. Standing only a few feet away from it, Ben shudders as gooseflesh immediately covers the surface of his skin. His senses spike aggressively and everything is brighter; sharper. The smell of sharp copper fills his nostrils— blood, or fear? Maybe both.

This is always how it starts. The portal shivers under his skin and the creatures beneath beg entry; pushing themselves eagerly into the back of his mind and his own senses.

Normally, he ignores them. Normally, he pushes back.

But Reginald is watching him intently from the other side of the glass and Ben knows the consequences of being uncooperative.

So he lets them in— not completely, but enough.

The familiar burning pain sears beneath his skin. Since he had already disrobed into trousers earlier, there wasn’t a shirt for him to unbutton. So he just watches as his skin rips and tears and they start to break through.

The trick is maintaining control while still using his abilities. The creatures can emerge from his portal, but not take the prey.

At least, not in these new tests Reginald had been running. Ben had already torn apart more creatures than he can even begin to count.

As it seems, they’re particularly peckish today. Ben tries to get a reign on both his senses and body, but the familiar bloodthirst that comes with allowing them to emerge is too powerful. His veins feel like they’re on fire and his head is pounding. The room is far too bright, and the pressure mounts behind his forehead until he cries out as the tentacles extend.

They’re _free_. Just as quickly as he’d had control over them, it all slips away like water between his fingers and he’s surrendered to the portal like a ragdoll. The tentacles expand, and somewhere in the background as if through some funnel, Ben can hear Reginald’s encouragement to restrain the creatures.

As much as he struggles to regain control, it’s just too late. The alien appendages snake out, grasping the goat limb for limb. The helpless brays from the animal are quickly drowned out as the tentacles tighten and tug, gruesomely ripping flesh and pulling its body apart.

_Red. Red everywhere._ Guts pouring out across the floor— the horrible screams of the goat as its legs are torn off and then its midsection. The suctioning ends of the tentacles attach to the gorey pieces of the goat and seem to absorb what blood they can like sponges.

Ben is used to this part, but it doesn’t make it any easier. Pretty soon he’s retching— horrible, gut-clenching spasms as his breakfast and lunch both empty from his stomach. The blood is everywhere, and he can’t see, can’t breathe—

“That’s enough,” Reginald’s voice sounds on the intercom. It’s dejected; maybe even disgusted. “That’s enough for today, Number Six.”

Ben tries to close the portal— he does. But _they_ have other plans. It isn’t until Reginald hits the emergency sprinkling system and it rains big, fat droplets down on him (and washes some of the gore down the drain) that the power surrenders itself to him again.

The tentacles retract and his skin is his own once more.

When Reginald finally opens the door, Ben vomits into the drain one more time.

He gets up shaking.

 

* * *

 

“Did Luther give you that bruise?” Klaus asks, handing the other boy his favorite flavor of ice pop. The two of them are perched on the edge of the academy’s roof, their small legs dangling off the side.

It had taken Grace almost an hour to scrub all of the blood off of Ben this time, and afterwards he’d changed into a clean set of his school uniform. While his was tidy and in place, Klaus’s was the exact opposite. The boy beside him had every button undone and his pockets were practically turned inside out. A few stray lollipops dangled dangerously from one of them. Ben didn’t say anything, but he did notice that one of them was green apple-- the same flavor as his ice pop.

He’d be lying if he said it didn’t tug a small smile out of him.

“How’d you know?” Ben finally asks after swallowing a chunk of ice.

“Because,” Klaus says, gesturing to the purple welt just barely showing on his forearm. “Thing’s the size of Montana. And Luther is a complete jackass. Especially when he's in 'big important superhero mission' mode.”

“Dad would have your head on a freaking platter if he heard you call him that,” Ben chastises, but he’s secretly grateful for Klaus’s crassness. In Reginald’s mind, his perfect ten-year-old superheroes cursing might be the same thing as Armageddon.

Klaus shrugs so hard he nearly loses his balance. “Dad, Schmad. Guy always has an opinion he wants to shaa _aaa_ are with the world.” He cups his hands around his mouth as he calls out. Just when Ben is sure Klaus is about to go on one of his long tangents venting, the other boy sobers up a little. “Do you ever just want to run away? Say screw the academy and live off the streets?”

Ben tries very hard not to think about the goat and its beady black eyes staring back at him. “All the time,” he says, in a small voice. “But we shouldn’t."

“But we _could_ ,” Klaus insists without missing a beat. He takes a generous chunk out of his own ice pop. “You and I-- we could survive. We could do it. I could open some sketchy side business reading ‘tarot’ or something. You could, like… I dunno. Save kittens from trees and try not to eat them.”

“Right,” Ben rolls his eyes. “Remind me to pack extra Pringles, then.”

“That’s the spirit.” Klaus claps him on the back. “Also, come get me if Luther lays another hand on you. I know how to really freak him out.”

Ben just smiles. The two boys sit like that awhile, watching the sunset.

 

* * *

 

It had been their thing for a long time. Anytime Ben had an accident or a new ‘research’ session with Reginald, Klaus was there with a green ice pop and an ear to lend.

It hadn’t always been that way, but after a few of Klaus’s own training disasters, the two had become somewhat of a support system for each other.

When Klaus first spent the night in a mausoleum at Reginald’s behest, he was seven years old. His nails were gnawed down past what they should be and the bags under his eyes were so dark they looked bruised. His powers had only grown significantly in scope since Reginald’s first tests had begun, and sleep had come very rarely for the boy who talked with ghosts.

After spending the early hours of the morning with a half-decapitated guy hanging over his head and muttering creepy, disjointed things about the void, Klaus had been particularly traumatized upon returning to the academy.

While the other kids had given Klaus a wide berth, Ben had just watched him with big, concerned eyes.

It was after breakfast (in which Klaus had sat, trembling and wide-eyed without touching his food) that the other boy finally snuck up to his bedroom.

Klaus is wrapped up in his comforter so far that only a tuft of his curly black hair is sticking out. All he can see when he closes his eyes is the hollow, dead gaze of the half-decapitated man, but when he opens them a tiredness seeps through his bones so deeply it’s as if he’s in some kind of trance. Exhaustion courses through him that’s so profound it almost overtakes the crippling fear and anxiety causing pains in his stomach.

He can’t breathe, and he doesn’t know what to do about it. He doesn’t know until his bedroom door opens and Ben slips inside.

Ben’s holding some tea. Klaus knows because he can hear the clanking of the spoon against the side of the cup. It sounds like he’s placed it on the end table near the bed and is now stirring.

Klaus struggles against the comforter to emerge slightly, taking a deep gulp of air. When he does, they make eye contact.

Ben’s dark gaze is probing but still gentle. The boy slides the teacup towards him with a pointed expression. “Drink it. Pogo said chamomile tea helps calm the nerves.”

Klaus stares at him for a long moment and neither boy says anything. Finally, he dislodges an arm from his bundle of blankets and leans forward to grasp the cup. Klaus’s hand is shaking so hard that the porcelain shudders against the saucer for a moment before he lifts the ceramic cup to his face.

He almost doesn’t manage to get the tea into his mouth. Shaking-- he can’t stop _shaking_.

Ben patiently perches on the edge of the bed and watches Klaus drink. The silence stretches on for awhile before he speaks again. “I brought you some crackers, too.” He fishes the package of Ritz out of his pocket and places them on the end table next to the saucer. “I figured… it might be hard for you to eat anything, so…”

Klaus just stares at him for a moment, his dark-rimmed eyes shining with unshed tears. He looks like he’s going to say something and then his face crumples.

Ben takes the tea from him before it spills. Klaus leans forward, clutching his knees to his chest and rocking. His silent tears quickly turn to gasps, and for a moment it’s like he’s somewhere else. He _looks_ somewhere else-- haunted.

An ever-tightening tunnel of darkness feels like it’s surrounding him on all sides and he’s not even in the mausoleum anymore.

_“I’ve seen nothing,” the half-decapitated man had said. “Nothing. Did you know you’re nothing? That I’m nothing? That we’re all nothing?” The flesh on his right cheek had been rotten. So rotten that Klaus could smell it-- could see the worms crawling just under his flesh. There was nowhere to go, and the walls were only pressing in by the second--_

“ _Klaus_ ,” Ben is pleading, clutching his shoulders through the comforter. “Hey, hey— it’s okay. You’re not there anymore. You’re here. You’re safe.”

Klaus is shaking. Trembling.

Ben’s hand finds his. The other boy pushes his way onto the bed and sits next to Klaus, holding tightly to his palm. “Just focus on my hand. You’re  _right_ here.”

When Klaus nods, eyes stinging, Ben tightens his grip.

“I’m right here,” he repeats. “Don’t worry. You’re _okay_.”

Klaus thinks maybe he believes him. He only starts to realize this when the tiredness creeps back. With Ben as his anchor, he feels his guard falling and then sleep takes him.


	2. Chapter 2

“Are we seriously only here because you needed munchies?” Ben complains, playing absently with the yo-yo clutched in his left hand. He hadn’t stopped carrying it around since Reginald had given it to him to use during training a couple months ago. Something about learning precision for his portal work. He doesn’t know what the old man had really intended him to do with it, but it had been fun slinging it around anyway just to annoy Klaus.

“They’re called party snacks, Ben,” Klaus replies a little too loudly as he ransacks the chip aisle. “How are we supposed to have a dysfunctional family birthday party without ‘em? Come to think of it, I think Dad still has those old protein bars in the cupboard that taste like ballsack. Y’know, if you’re too good for the Ruffles.”

Ben makes a face. " _Nature Valley_ Ballsack Edition, huh? I guess if anyone were to know what the distinct flavor of ballsack was, it’d be you.”

“Oh, _ha_ -ha. Like you’re one to talk. What was the name of that guy you seduced back at the Y when we used to have a membership? Harvey? Harold?”

“Henry,” Ben corrects, frowning. “Also, I didn’t ‘seduce’ him. We went on like one date and it didn’t work out.”

“Oh, that’s riiight,” Klaus laughs, hugging multiple bags of Ruffles in his arms. “Wasn’t he like obsessed with the academy or something?”

”He only asked me about you guys,” Ben answers quietly, shoving his hands in his pockets again as he follows Klaus towards check out. For some reason the thought of the other boy judging his romantic affairs strikes a nerve even though he knows Klaus is only poking fun. Maybe it’s because he, much like the rest of the Hargreeves children, hasn’t had much of a chance to explore non-academy things like external friendships or relationships.

It’s an especially sore spot knowing today is their seventeenth birthday and Ben hasn’t once had a kiss, let alone a significant other. He knows he’s not the only one out of them all, either.

“Maybe this is why ole Reggie always tells us not to trust anyone,” Klaus muses, dropping the snacks in front of the cashier. “It’s probably his single brain cell talking and giving us the _one_ half-decent piece of advice we’re ever gonna get from him.”

“He didn’t even teach us the five second rule,” Ben says thoughtfully. “That was Pogo.”

“See? You can’t be more of a fuckup as a father than that.”

As the two of them start to leave Walgreens, Klaus shoves the snack bag into Ben’s arms. “Alright, here’s the game plan: we go along with everyone’s snooze fest birthday plans up until dinner, then right after we make a break for the attic TV. Be ready to utilize force— I have a feeling the remote will already be planted firmly up Diego’s ass. He’s been practically glued to the screen this past week.”

Ben cocks a brow. “What has he even been binging up there?”

" _Kitchen Nightmares_?” Klaus suggests, fumbling in his jacket for his lighter. “Hell if I know. Whatever a sad man whose only friend is a butterknife is into watching.”

Ben watches his brother indulge his cigarette habit without saying much. It isn’t until they’re almost back to the academy that Klaus finally speaks again.

“It’s been a… long time. Y’know, since I said that thing about us running away.” His blue eyes look almost haunted as he gazes straight ahead. “And I know it’s outlandish and I’m probably a braindead lunatic for even thinking about it again, but… the offer still stands.”

Ben swallows. _Is that a lump forming in his throat?_ “We can’t just leave, Klaus. All of the others… they still need us. They always will.”

“Really?” Klaus laughs, but it’s a harsh sound. “Because, honestly, Luther seems like he has it covered. Guy’s practically got a fan club and celebrity autograph signings. He _is_ number one, right? Why should we be tasked with the dirty work?”

Ben shakes his head. “That’s not fair and you know it.”

They’re coming up to the front steps. Before he opens the door for them to go inside, the taller boy says, “When has anything about the Umbrella Cult-cademy been fair?”

 

* * *

 

“Where’s Dad?” Klaus asks Allison as he takes the snack bag from Ben and tosses it onto the couch next to her. “I figured he’d have busted out the festive party hats by now. Maybe hung some colorful streamers that said _‘Happy Birthday’_ on ‘em. Maybe another one that said _‘Child Abuse’_.”

The joke, of course, was that the Hargreeves had never had traditional birthday parties growing up. The closest they’d gotten were the birthday dinners with Grace that usually included cake. Aside from that, their birthday mornings always started with the usual training and ended with a typical absentee Reggie.

“Gone,” Allison says simply, tilting her head up and pulling her attention away from her phone. “‘ _Child Abuse_ ’,” she muses. “I get it. Because we’re dysfunctional. You need new material, Klaus.”

“Please, for the love of God, don’t tell him he’s not funny,” Ben interjects, perching on the armrest of the couch. “If you do, I won’t hear the end of it for at least a week.”

“Don’t be a drama queen, Ben,” Klaus shoots back.

Their bickering is cut short as Diego clears his throat. He’s standing in the archway to the corridor, dressed in the leather he usually equips for missions. Klaus hardly ever sees him take it off after it’s on.

“If you idiots are done waiting hand and foot on dear ole Dad, meet me upstairs in the attic,” is all he says.

Ben and Klaus exchange glances.

 

* * *

 

Not ten minutes later, everyone’s crammed in the attic and there almost isn’t room. The ratty couch is mostly dominated by Luther and Diego with Allison squeezed in on the edge. Vanya is sitting on the windowsill looking just about as awkward as she normally does around the rest of the group, and Klaus and Ben are spread out on the floor next to the coffee table.

On the coffee table itself are the snacks the boys had bought earlier alongside a decent amount of alcohol. There’s regular beer, but also (surprisingly) fire whiskey and jello shots.

How the hell Diego managed to prepare jello shots without anyone noticing beats Klaus.

“I figure if we’re gonna spend the day together, might as well be intoxicated,” he explains, downing the first shot.

Allison shoots him a baffled look. “Is that it? _That’s_ the birthday plan? Choke down jello shots in a musty attic until Dad gets home and remembers we exist?”

From her right, Luther visibly stiffens. “He’s not.. ‘forgetting we exist’. He had an interview with some news outlet about the heist mission last week. He’s supposed to be back by dinner.”

Allison looks away so he doesn’t see her rolls her eyes. “What I _meant_ was we should at least play a game. Maaybe… _Never Have I Ever_?”

Vanya perks up from her spot at the windowsill. “Sounds like it could be fun.”

Ben just says, “As long as we don’t get Klaus so shitfaced he starts levitating stuff again.”

“Alright, if he even starts to levitate me, I’m using his throat as a new sheathe for one of my daggers,” Diego adds.

“Feeling the brotherly love,” Klaus says cheerily, leaning forward to start opening up the 24-pack so he can retrieve a can. “Bring it on, Allison.”

His sister shoots him a grin. After a moment of presumably collecting her thoughts, she clears her throat. “Guess I’m starting, then. Never have I ever… uhhh. Gotten high on marijuana?”

“You can just say ‘Klaus’ next time,” Ben jokes as his brother immediately gulps down a jello shot.

Allison’s gaze sweeps across the rest of the siblings expectantly. “No one else? Really?”

There’s a long pause and then a disgruntled sigh as Luther shifts forward to grab a shot.

Klaus bursts out laughing, practically choking. “Man, I didn’t think you were gonna tell them…”

“I wasn’t,” he says sourly, wiping his lips with the back of his hand. “But, hey, it was one time. And after taking out more than an entire gang of guys that mission, I feel like blowing off some steam afterwards isn’t something I should be ashamed of.”

“Well,” Ben says, “At least I know what stocking stuffers to get you two for Christmas. Weed leaf socks, anyone?”

Klaus chucks his crumpled up jello shot cup in Ben’s direction and the other boy just barely dodges. “Do you even know what a marijuana leaf looks like, Ben? Your entire wardrobe screams ‘ _DARE_ officer’.”

Ben just grins, ducking, and Allison clears her throat. “Whenever you guys are done being actual five year olds, it’s Vanya’s turn.”

“Oh, man…,” the small girl murmurs, looking sheepish now that the attention is turning her way. “I don’t know? Uhh.. Never have I ever… had a first kiss?”

There’s a tense moment that spans the room and it seems like everyone is sitting a little more rigidly. Vanya looks regretful.

There’s some rustling as Diego, Luther and Allison all reach forward for shots.

Klaus moves to fist bump Ben, but quickly realizes the other boy is looking away and seemingly not paying attention. Just as it occurs to him that he might actually be upset, Allison urges Diego to take his turn.

“Never have I ever… Shit, I dunno. Gone skinny dipping?”

Everyone exchanges awkward glances for a moment as Klaus takes a shot.

“What?” he says, putting the empty cup down. “You can’t tell me you guys have never gone out for a little midnight swim. Had a nice little dip with your bits out? _Really_? No one else?” He shakes his head in mock exasperation. “Suit yourselves.”

Ben, Allison and Vanya are all fighting smiles, but Diego and Luther just look perplexed.

“Yeah, I’m already regretting this,” Diego murmurs, cracking open a can.

“Luther?” Allison prompts.

The blond sighs, furrowing his brows. “It’s not like we really get out much,” he laments, shifting uncomfortably. “Never have I ever… I dunno. Killed an innocent, I guess?”

As soon as it leaves his mouth, tension swallows the room whole. For a painfully long few moments, no one says anything. And then Ben stands up, not saying a word as he steps over Klaus’s legs and heads for the attic door. The slam that follows is deafening.

“What the hell, Luther?” Klaus demands, standing up as best he can through the buzz of the jello shots. “It’s a drinking game, not the third degree.”

“Klaus, wait,” Allison calls after him as he goes.

He doesn’t turn around.

 

* * *

 

 

Klaus finds him on the roof. He’s not really surprised— it’s where they usually go during moments of distress. Not so shockingly, those came pretty frequently in the Hargreeves household.

The popsicle he’d grabbed from the kitchen on his way up is heavy and cold in his pocket as he approaches Ben, who’s perched on the edge of the rooftop with his hood pulled up.

“Ben… You know Luther’s a big oaf sometimes. He didn’t mean it— probably wasn’t even thinking. Pretty sure Mom dropped him on his head as a baby at least once.”

Ben doesn’t turn around. He just shrugs. “It doesn’t take back what I did.”

Klaus approaches now, taking a seat next to the smaller boy. “No,” he agrees. “Not really. But there’s no use dwelling on it, right? Your drew the shit end of the stick when it comes to powers and that’s not really.. _your_ fault.”

This time, Ben does look at him. His dark eyes are melancholy in a way that Klaus is almost accustomed to after all of these years. Klaus may see ghosts, but sometimes Ben _looks_ like one. It might have something to do with growing up surrounded by gore and death. “What kind of seventeen year old has to live with murder on their conscience because of something as outlandish as monsters under their skin? And that’s without even ticking the box of ‘I haven’t had a first kiss’. I mean, if being a superhero is what’s keeping me from being normal and I can’t even do _that_ well, what do I have?”

“Me,” Klaus says immediately. He doesn’t know why. He isn’t normally the cheesy type. “And, honestly? If you _want_ a first kiss, I…” His cheeks burn. _What is he even saying?_ Klaus has the distinct impression he’s probably lost his last marble, but he presses on. “We can have it. No one’s stopping us.”

Ben’s eyes widen and for a few horrible moments Klaus imagines he could sink through the floor from sheer embarrassment.

“Klaus… are you serious?” is what he says.

Klaus thinks he remembers nodding in response.

All he can think about is how close they’re sitting. How their legs are pressing together at the thighs.

Stupidly, he reaches into his pocket for the popsicle he’d almost forgotten. “This is, uh… for you.”

Ben cracks a grin.

The flavor is green apple.

 

* * *

 

Ben knocks on his door later that night and Klaus almost doesn’t hear it because the raps are so light. The clock on his phone reads 2 AM.

Padding across the room in his socks, he swings the door open to let the other boy in. Much like Klaus, Ben is clad in his silk pajama set with the Umbrella Academy symbol sewn onto the front pocket. His hair is disheveled like he’s been trying to sleep and couldn’t.

After Klaus closes the door, he speaks.

“I… I think I want it.” It doesn’t take rocket science for Klaus to infer what ‘it’ is.

“You _think_? This isn’t a math equation, Ben. You either do or you don’t,” he hisses, keeping his voice low mostly out of paranoia of what Allison might hear from the room next to his.

Ben doesn’t reply. Instead, he pushes Klaus into a sitting position onto the edge of the bed and takes the spot beside him.

Then he leans in.

Ben’s lips press against his and it’s the most gentle kind of caress Klaus has ever felt. At first they’re just suspended there, frozen in the moment and all that it means. And then Klaus moves, parting his lips, and their tongues brush for the first time. He tastes faintly like mint— maybe from brushing his teeth before bed— and Klaus is hyper aware of their noses brushing as he tilts his head. The kiss deepens and soon Klaus is gripping the front of Ben’s pajamas as he shamelessly sucks on the boy’s lower lip. When their tongues intertwine again, Klaus shudders, feeling waves of heat rolling from his head to his toes.

He thinks he knows for the first time what it means to _feel_ something for someone— to be completely wrapped up in passion. In that moment, it’s as if the two of them are no longer two separate people and more like one being. Ben moans against his lips and it’s like Klaus is ascending.

The smaller boy wars against him for dominance, pushing Klaus back onto the bed and straddling him.

He lets out a small gasp against the Ben’s lips-- he can feel the hard lump in his brother’s pants grinding up against him.

Maybe in another life, Klaus would’ve wondered if it was wrong. But in this one, all he can imagine or feel is Ben. _Ben, Ben, Ben._ Ben’s smile, Ben’s laugh, Ben’s hand in his. The way he smelled of cinnamon gum and his eyes crinkled at the corners when he laughed.

His brother’s mouth is hot and wet on his, and Klaus starts to forget where he ends and the other boy begins.


	3. Chapter 3

It’s the summer when he dies.

It’s gruesome. But then again, wasn’t it always going to be?

Luther tells him to leave. Luther makes him leave. Luther picks Klaus up while he’s screaming and crying, hot tears spilling over his cheeks.

_“They’re killing him, Klaus! They’re killing him and there’s nothing we can do. And if you think I’m leaving you--”_

Luther’s shouts and the gunfire meld into one continuous stream of noise.

It had almost become sort of a white noise-- a long, endless buzzing between Klaus’s ears. A symphony of absolute nothingness as he watched the monsters under Ben’s skin tear him apart.

It was the blood that he remembered. The blood, and Ben’s screams.

It had been violent. But then again, wasn’t it always going to be?

 

* * *

 

Klaus doesn’t see Ben’s ghost for months. At least, not until he’s asleep at night.

It’s always the same. He sees him, standing in the containment cell Reggie always hosts Ben’s training sessions in.

He’s standing there in a hospital gown like one of the ones from the infirmary. Klaus is on the other side of the glass and the door is locked tight.

He looks like he’s going to be sick.

Klaus recognizes it. It’s how he always looks right before _They_ take over.

And they do. Ben’s screams are so loud they still pierce the air even with a wall of steel between.

They tear him apart. Just like they had on the mission.

“ _Ben!_ No, God, no… No, please… _BEN--_ ”

Klaus is banging on the glass. He’s banging and banging and it won’t break. Pretty soon he’s punching the surface, and there’s a sickening crack as his knuckles break, blood smearing across the glass--

_“BEN!”_

 

 

He wakes up screaming.

The sheets are tangled around his legs and he bolts upright, tears hot on his cheeks. He hardly has time to register what’s going on before his bedroom door swings open.

_Allison._ His sister rushes to his side, concern in her big, round eyes. “Hey, hey, hey. It’s okay. It was a dream. You’re okay.”

Klaus doesn’t have the energy or the spirit to resist. When she folds him up in her arms, he lets her. He rests his head on her shoulder and sobs wrack his body.

“It wasn’t your fault, Klaus. It wasn’t your fault.

_It wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t any of our faults.”_

 

* * *

 

He sees Ben the next morning.

He leaves the house meaning to meet up with his dealer, but instead he walks to the park.

It’s 6 AM and the dew is still fresh on the sun-washed grass. It’s almost pretty. He sits on the bench in front of the lake and gazes straight ahead. Every bone in his body is tired, but for the first time in months he feels a little lighter. It’s probably because of Allison.

“Klaus?” he says.

It’s the first time he’s heard Ben’s voice in months. Weeks. Days. Hours.

He’s trembling. He hardly has the strength to turn his head-- what if it isn’t real? What if he isn’t really there? What if he’s bloody or disfigured like all of the other spirits? What if just seeing him is like reliving his death all over again?

But Ben isn’t fear like the other spirits. He isn’t pain. He’s an endless well of love and companionship, and he had been for as long as Klaus had remembered.

So he turns his head and sees his best friend.

There are no wounds and no blood. Only Ben and his beaming grin. Only Ben and his dimples.

Klaus almost swears he can smell the faint scent of cinnamon gum.

For the first time in what feels like a lifetime, he breaks into a smile.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm sorry. lol. that's all i got

**Author's Note:**

> i honestly don't even know what tf to say here that won't spoil how this fic goes, lol. i'm gonna try and finish this piece up pretty quickly-- idk if it'll be just two chapters or more, but either way it's gonna be a big angst fest. bring some kleenex when you see this bad boy update


End file.
